Into the Horizon
by Rory Carlisle
Summary: WARNING spoilers from the 7th book. Oliver Wood thinks that he has everything A great job on a Quidditch team, a nice, somewhat messy flat, a great life. But when one of his friends is attacked, everything in Oliver's perfect life is thrown into chaos.
1. Chapter 1: Guessing Games

**First off, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews my stories! I really, really, really appreciate it. :) :) And yes, here's another one. It's dedicated to Eldarwen Melwasul, a good friend of mine and also a fantastic writer. Her story is called Whirlwind, so everyone should go read it. :)  
Anyway, enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: Extraneous Activities**

_It wasn't supposed to happen this way._

_I wasn't supposed to die like this._

_I wasn't supposed to die this soon!_

"What? What are you _talking_ about, Oliver? You're not going to die!"

Oliver Wood opened his eyes. "Huh? Did I say tha' out loud? Whoops." He sat up and rubbed his arm. A shock of pain rippled through him and he winced.

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed him back down. "Now, lie still." he said. "The nurse hasn't gotten around to getting over here yet, but until she has, _don't move. _You've broken your arm pretty badly."

"It's jus' a little scratch." Oliver grinned even as little waves of pain kept shooting up his arm. "Nothin' much."

"Nothing much." Harry rolled his eyes again. "The Keeper for Puddlemere United Quidditch team gets hit by not one, but _two _Bludgers, both in his right arm, breaking nearly all the bones in it and faints because the pain is too much says it's 'nothing much.' Yeah, right, Oliver."

The door to the tent flapped open and a short, stubby little witch with tightly curled grey hair and shockingly pink robes bustled in.

"Now, what do we have here?" she asked, prodding Oliver's arm, who flinched again and let out a little moan. "Ah, broken arm, we see? Well, I'll just fix you right up then, now, hold still…."

She waved her wand and Oliver felt the bones in his arms move around and then heard the snapping, cracking sound that signified they were being re-attached. He groaned, closing his eyes.

After a few minutes, the little witch stood back. "All done!" she said, smiling. "Now, just sit still for a little while, and then you can get up, all right?" She hurried from the room as there was a yell of pain from outside. She almost ran into Ginny Weasley, who was walking in.

"Hey," she said. She was still in her Quidditch robes, and holding her broom at her side. "How're you doing, Oliver?"

He grinned. "Oh, I'm holdin' up."

"Says the man who nearly cried when they carried him in the tent." Harry said dryly, and Ginny laughed.

"Well, that save you made right before was spectacular." she said, sitting down at the foot of Oliver's bed. "The Holyhead Harpy's Chaser didn't know what had hit him. Did you see the way his eyes nearly bugged out of his head after he saw you leap off your broom and tackle the Quaffle like that? It was brilliant, pure brilliance."

"Thanks, Ginny." Oliver sat up again and flexed his supposedly broken arm. It was still a little sore, but otherwise quite as good as new. "Okay, all good to go. Anybody want to get some dinner?"

"Thanks, but we have to get back to the Burrow." Harry said. "With George's wedding and all that coming up, there's still so much to be done, and Mrs. Weasley's gone nearly mad with things to do."

"I still _cannae _believe that _George Weasley_, of all people is getting' married." Oliver grumbled. "Who would've thought?"

"I know." said Ginny. "Considering that just months before he and Fred were going on about how they were going to remain bachelors forever."

Her facial expression didn't change, but Oliver felt a slight stabbing in his chest when he thought of Fred. Obnoxious as they had been when they had been on his Quidditch team during school, he had always had a certain fondness for the Weasley twins.

"Well, I'm off." Oliver said. "I'll see ye at practice tomorrah, Ginny."

She nodded and waved, already taking Harry's hand in preparation to Apparate. "See ya, Oliver."

"Bye!" Harry called before turning on the spot and disappearing with a loud _crack!_

Oliver sat there for a moment. It was strange, but he felt quite at ease with himself at the moment. He was back on Puddlemere United, which had been reformed after Voldemort's destruction, doing the thing he loved most. He had the pleasure of having another Weasley on his team again; although Ginny had never been on the Gryffindor team with him, he had been happy just the same. She had been signed on with Puddlemere United when Hogwarts was found out not to be reopening in time for her to go for her seventh year. The girl was a superb Chaser, although Oliver suspected that she would rather be Seeker. He had his own, nice (however slightly rundown) flat, down in Diagon Alley. He had a cat. An obnoxious, highly aloof cat, but a companion nonetheless.

Oliver smiled to himself and Disapparated.

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It was a wonder that Oliver had survived as long as he had without proper sustenance. He was nearing twenty-three, and had yet to eat a suitable meal. Being an unmarried man living alone in an apartment meant that he survived mainly on eating out and scrounging around, living off of Pumpkin Pasties and Licorice Ropes. Not exactly his _ideal _kind of eating, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the current moment. Oliver wasn't exactly raking in thousands of Galleons. Puddlemere United was still underway to becoming a major Quidditch team.

Waving his wand absentmindedly, Oliver almost failed to notice that the pot on the stove was steaming and letting off copious amounts of orange-ish smoke. Hastily, he turned off the fire and moved the pot to the other burner.

"Damn." he muttered, prodding the now black substance with his wand. It had acquired the texture of a pile of melted tar. He sighed and dumped all of it in the rubbish bin.

Opening his cupboards, Oliver rummaged around in the shelves, finding nothing but a half empty box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a lot of cobwebs. Next, he tried looking in the pantry, but quickly distinguished the idea when he noticed the family of mice living in the bottom. It looked as if it was another day of eating out.

Whistling to himself, Oliver made his way out of his flat and down through the lobby of the building. He waved to the doorman and was about to leave when someone said "Oliver!"

He closed his eyes, recognizing the voice. Pasting a smile on his face, he turned around to see Jemima Jeffries from the flat below his striding across towards him. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes twinkling.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thank ye Jemima. how are ye?" He would regret asking, he just knew it.

"I'm fine, thanks, just waiting for Genie to get down here. You know how she is getting ready. Always have to look _exactly _right. Well, she's nothing if not prompt. We weren't supposed to meet for another five minutes, and you know Genie, she'll be here exactly on time or not at all. I guess it's that internal clock inside people are just talking about, you know? Well, we were just about to go get something to eat. Would you like to join us?"

Oliver had been so busy trying to figure out if Jemima had taken a single breath during all of this that it was only after a few seconds of silence that he realized she had asked him a question.

"Oh, er…" he said, blinking. "Well…"

Jemima wasn't paying attention. "Oh, there you are, Genie! Right on time! See, I told you Oliver."

Imogene Wilkins walked up and smiled. "Hey, Oliver."

"I've just invited him to dinner with us, is that all right Genie?" Jemima asked.

Imogene turned her blue-eyed gaze on him. "Oh, yes," she said. "That would be great."

Oliver groaned internally. He didn't mind Jemima's flatmate and cousin, Imogene, as much as he did Jemima, but the two of them together was nearly unbearable. He tried to think of some way to get out of it, but when no plausible reason came to mind, he had no choice but to mumble an almost undistinguishable "Yeah, okay."

"Yay!" Jemima clapped her hands together. "Oh, we should go to the Devilish Donkey, I hear they have great treacle tart for desert! Oh, or the Wicked Forest, they have great pastries…"

Oliver sighed and followed them out the building.

_This is going to be one very long evening._


	2. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Visitor

-1Chapter 2: Guessing Games

"So, then I was just thinking, well, why not me? And then Jilly said that I should try to get into the Magical Reversal Squad because, you know, she said I could do a good job at it, seeing as I'm always getting into that kind of stuff…"

Oliver felt his eyes closing. He quickly snapped them back open, leaning slightly forward, his chin in his hand. It was a little after eight o'clock, and he had been sitting in the same spot for more than two hours. The chair was hard and altogether quite uncomfortable. Not to mention that Jemima's constant stream of chatter was getting to his head. He raised his hand and ordered another glass of Ogden's Firewhisky, for the mere purpose of trying to stay awake.

Beside Jemima, Imogene was sipping her tea and laughing at what her cousin was saying.

"So," Imogene said, now breaking a bit of pastry off with her fingers. "Then what did she say?"

"She said that it was quite a mess!" Jemima wiped tears of laughter from her eyes while Imogene chuckled. "What do you think of that, Oliver?" she said, turning to face him.

"What? Oh! Er…yeah, that's…that's really funny." Oliver attempted a smile, and apparently it was good enough for Jemima who was giggling like crazy.

"Oh, look at the time." Imogene looked at her watch. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Oliver, we've kept you for too long."

Relief coursed through him, and Oliver stood, stretching. "S'all right." he said through a wide yawn, which he hastily tried to cover up.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Jemima said. She stood up and accidentally knocked her water glass over. It promptly shattered and water spread across the blue linen tablecloth. "Oh, dang it…"

Oliver leapt back to keep the water from spraying him. He threw a bunch of napkins down on the rapidly spreading mess, but Imogene just flicked her wand and said _"Scourgify."_

The wet soggy mess cleared up at once. Oliver felt almost stupid.

"I'm so clumsy." Jemima sighed. "Ah, at least I have Genie here to help me."

Imogene grinned. "Yes, that's why I'm here, Jem. I'm here to clean up after you."

The two girls broke out into giggles and Oliver had to restrain from rolling his eyes. He pushed his chair in and picked up his bag from the chair.

"Well," he said, backing away. "Thank ye for inviting' me to dinner. I really must be going now, though, so…bye!"

He waved and all but ran out of the café, Jemima's and Imogene's shouts of goodbye ringing in his ears.

Safely back up in his flat, Oliver leaned against his door and let out all of his breath in one long whoosh. He wondered at Jemima's ability to speak for incredible amounts of time without taking a single breath. The girl must have an extra lung or something.

Still…Oliver looked up at the ceiling. He had to admit, the evening had been a lot more interesting compared to what he was used to do. Which was sit around, eating sweets and reading.

A slim, long-haired black cat with a striped orange and black tail jumped up on the table next to the door. Oliver smiled down at it and reached over, scratching it between its ears.

"Good evening, Zacharias." he said. He picked the cat up and walked over to the couch, where he sank down with Zacharias in his lap. Leaning his head back on the couch, Oliver closed his eyes, so tired he was almost ready to go to bed. He was just drifting off when,

_CRACK!_

Oliver's eyes flew open and Zacharias hissed, digging his claws into Oliver's leg. He yelled and flung the cat away.

"Blimey…stupid cat…" Oliver rubbed at the raw scratches his pet had left.

"Good evening, Wood."

He glanced up. "Katie. What is _wrong_ with ye?"

Katie Bell grinned down at him. "Nothing. What's up with you?"

Oliver glared at her. "I mean, what do ye think ye are doing, just Apparatin' into a man's house with no warnin'."

She snorted. "It's not like I'm going to _do _anything. Merlin's beard, you're superstitious, Wood."

Oliver paused in the act of mopping up the blood dripping down his leg. "Ye know…" he said grumpily. "I don't know whether to feel relieved or insulted."

Katie swept past him into the kitchen. "I'm your best friend, Wood. That's why I'm here. That, and to fix up your messes. Which, by the way, are obviously enormous."

Oliver's mature reply was to stick out his tongue at her. She just rolled her eyes and went on cleaning up the dishes with a flick of her wand.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner's of Oliver's mouth. He had known Katie for the better part of five years, and the girl was absolutely one of the most open-hearted people he had met.

She was also quite impossibly stubborn sometimes. Like a wild boar, Oliver thought grimly, watching her bustle around the kitchen with obvious purpose.

Katie had always been there for Oliver. It would have been nice, he thought somewhat wistfully, if they could have gotten together, but there was absolutely no romantic atmosphere between them whatsoever. Being best friends was quite good enough for him, and he was fine with it.

"Blimey, Wood." Katie said as she sent now clean glasses into the cupboard above the sink. "It's like you live in a dung heap. I don't know how you stand it."

"I do not live in a 'dung heap.'" Oliver said rather indignantly. "I just don't have time to clean, most of the time."

Katie sent him a skeptical glance. "Oh really. And what else do you do besides play Quidditch? Brush your cat?"

Oliver pretended to be wounded. "Ouch, Katie. That's harsh."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you'll get over it. Now, why don't you go and get ready for bed while I finish up in here?"

"What do ye think I am, four years old? Lassie, I'll have ye know I am almost twenty-three. I think I know how to put myself to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah, go on." Katie waved a hand behind her carelessly. "Bye."

He grumbled all the way into the bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed. Zacharias looked at him from the nightstand where he lay curled up on one of Oliver's Quidditch magazines.

Oliver stood up and changed into a pair of grey and black plaid pajama pants. He was in the process of looking for a pajama shirt when the door to his bedroom burst in.

"Merlin, Katie." he said crossly, holding a teeshirt to his bare chest. "I think I can get dressed by meself-"

"No, Oliver." she said breathlessly. "Imogene just called. Jemima's been attacked."


	3. Chapter 3: An Unexplained Mystery

**Er...I need to apologize for a little mistake I made in the previous chapter...the Holyhead Harpies? Yeah, they're an all-girl team...which I forgot...so, uh...let's just pretend that they're the Wimbourne Wasps instead, all right? Thanks. :) **

**Chapter 3: An Unexplained Mystery**

Oliver raced across the hallway and was downstairs in ten seconds flat. He skidded to a halt in front of Jemima and Imogene's flat to find the door open and several members of the (newly reformed) Department of Magical Law Enforcement already standing inside.

Slipping in, Oliver spotted a flash of Imogene's blonde hair as she leaned over the trembling form of Jemima, who was sitting on a red chintz loveseat.

"Move!" Katie hissed, and Oliver realized he was blocking the doorway. He strode over to where Imogene and Jemima were and sat beside them.

"Who are you?" One of the wizards asked. He was a tall man with thick grey hair and round spectacles perched on a rather long nose.

"I'm Oliver Wood, sir." he said. "I live upstairs, above these two. This is Katie Bell, our friend."

The wizard nodded. "I'm Randolph Mullins, current Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement. Can you produce an alibi for the past two hours?" he asked, and both Oliver and Katie nodded.

"Wha' happened?" Oliver asked Imogene, not really looking forward to the answer.

She looked up at him, unshed tears sparkling in her blue eyes. Oliver was struck once again at how much the two cousins looked alike. Both had blonde hair and blue eyes, but while Jemima's hair was curly and short, Imogene's was longer and straight. At the current moment, however, Jemima's face was marred by a few deep gashes and several bruises. There was also a ring of bruises around her upper arm, as if someone had grabbed her in a tight grip. Her usually well groomed hair was tangled and dirt-streaked, and her clothes were ripped and torn.

"Well," Imogene said in a shaky voice. "We got home after eating dinner and it was only around eight-thirty or so, so Jemima said she wanted to go for a run. She usually does that on cooler evenings, so I said that I would stay home and finish cleaning up while she ran. She got dressed and that took her a little while, and then we got to talking, so she didn't leave until around nine-thirty. After she went downstairs, I was doing the dishes when I heard her scream. I ran downstairs and found her lying in the street, and saw a figure running away. I tried to Stun them, but they were already too far away and I was worrying too much about Jemima." she stopped and rubbed at her eyes tiredly.

"It seems as if the attacker didn't use a wand." Randolph Mullins said. "It's supposed that he saw Miss Jeffries here and hit her several times with something before running away. However, we cannot confirm this yet, as Miss Jeffries is still unable to speak just yet."

Oliver looked at the shaking Jemima, who shook her head and buried her face in her cousin's shoulder. Imogene stroked her hair soothingly, murmuring words of comfort. He had a sudden, strange desire to laugh; this was the first time he had ever heard her quiet.

The desire passed quickly, however, and Oliver was grateful. Now was not the time. He turned to Imogene. "Is there anything I can do for ye?" he asked quietly.

She attempted a weak smile. "No, but thank you Oliver. We will call you if we need help."

He nodded and stood back up. Katie was still waiting by the doorway, leaning against the wall, her arms across her chest. As he walked out, she took his hand in a gesture of comfort.

"This is jus'…" Oliver muttered. "I mean, who would attack a girl like Jemima? Voldemort is dead and gone, Harry saw through to tha'. The Ministry o' Magic has caught all the known Death Eaters that were supportin' him. Who else is there?"

"Unfortunately, there are still some wizarding scum out there." Katie said darkly as they headed back up to Oliver's flat. "Even if Voldemort is gone. Not all the wizarding world is good."

Oliver sighed. This wasn't how he had planned to spend his evening. He had wanted to sit and relax, have a little Firewhisky, maybe spend a little time reading his _Quidditch Teams Around the World_ book that he had borrowed from Harry. Now his building was swarming with Ministry officials and there was absolutely no chance for peace and quiet. At least not yet.

Katie noticed his glum silence. "Cheer up, Wood." she said as he pushed open his apartment's door. "It could have been worse."

"Yes, I suppose it could've." Oliver gave a long, unexpected yawn. It was only a little past ten, and he tried to hide it, but Katie noticed anyway.

"Bed." she said, shoving him in the direction of his room.

"What are ye, me ma?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Close enough." she said as she pushed him onto his bed. "Now, get some rest. I'll be here in the morning and we can go to Quidditch practice together."

Yawning again, Oliver just nodded and burrowed down beneath his covers, sleep already overtaking him.

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Oliver woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. Rubbing his forehead, he staggered out of bed, wearing only a worn pair of navy blue sweatpants, the Puddlemere United emblem sewn onto the right side pocket. He clutched his blanket around him like a cloak and wandered out into the kitchen.

"Don' ye ever _sleep?" _He mumbled, not surprised in the least, to Katie, who was standing in his kitchen making sausages. "Yer like a mad housewife."

"Nope, I'm actually a vampire in real life." Katie said cheerfully. "Anyway, I've made you some breakfast; it's on the table. Sit, eat, enjoy."

Oliver yawned and flopped down in the chair, blanket and all. He managed to free one hand long enough to fork some eggs into his mouth, then said "Have ye talked to Imogene or Jemima yet?"

"No." said Katie, now pouring hot water into a tea kettle. "But the Ministry officials say that they're putting protection spells around the building to help. Now," she said. "Finish eating and then go get dressed, it's almost time to leave."

"Yes, Mum." Oliver said dryly, but Katie just laughed.

As they traipsed down onto the Puddlemere United Quidditch field a little while later, Oliver heard someone call his name. He turned to find Ginny Weasley running down after them, her long red hair flying behind her like a scarlet curtain.

"Oliver!" she said breathlessly. "I just heard-there's been an attack on a girl in your building?"

"Yeah." Oliver said. "How did ye know? It only happened las' night."

She waved a gloved hand. "Oh, I know everything that goes around. Plus, since Harry's been helping out the Ministry a lot lately, he heard it from Randolph Mullins of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Oh." said Oliver, unsure of what else exactly there was to say.

"Well?" said Ginny. "Have they caught the guy who did it?"

"No." Oliver said as he pulled on one of his sleek, dragon-hide gloves. "Not yet. But they're workin' on it."

Ginny started to ask more, but Philbert Deverill, Puddlemere's manager, yelled at them to get their behinds in gear.

Once on his broom and up in the air, Oliver felt a rush of excitement. _This_ was his life. This was what he wanted to do more than anything. Flying gave Oliver a feeling of contentment like no other, and playing Quidditch professionally had always been his dream.

After Quidditch practice, exhausted, muddy and exhilarated, Oliver, Ginny and Harry, (who had come to watch, as he always did) went out to lunch. Katie had declined politely, saying she had to get home.

As they sat in the tiny pub, toasting each other with butterbeer, and scarfing down sandwiches, Harry said lightly "So, Oliver are you coming to the Burrow tomorrow?"

Oliver looked at him. "Why am I coming to the Burrow? Did George burn it down or somethin' again?"

Ginny let out a snort of laughter and Harry smiled. "No," he said. "But we're having a rehearsal dinner for George's wedding."

"Again?" Oliver said. "I thought we got it down pat the firs' four times we did it. And the weddin' is still more than five months away. "

Harry grinned at him. "Well, you know Mrs. Weasley. She's always got to be on top of things. And since you're one of George's witnesses, you have to be there for everything we're doing."

Oliver sighed. "Well, I guess…I suppose I have to go, don' I?"

Ginny nodded, sipping her butterbeer. "Yeah, unfortunately. Life in the Weasley family is sometimes quite eccentric."

"Sometimes?" Oliver said without thinking, but Ginny just laughed.

"Okay, always. Now," she said, looking down at her empty plate. "Who's up for some desert? I'm in the mood for chocolate cake."


	4. Chapter 4: A Case of Annoyance

**Chapter 4: A Case of Annoyance  
**

Over the course of the next few days Oliver found himself constantly in the presence of Imogene, Jemima, or in worst cases, both. He tried to make himself as scarce as possible, but the fact was that they lived only one floor down from him, so that made being invisible nearly unthinkable. Unless he used a Disillusionment charm, Oliver was forced to face the inevitable-that he was stuck with the two girls, at least for the time being.

Trudging along Diagon Alley one morning, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his rather worn-out corduroy trousers, Oliver sighed deeply. It wasn't as if he _hated_ Imogene or Jemima. They were just so…clingy. He admitted to himself that he was slightly worried about them, for the mere fact that Jemima had just been attacked several days prior. He felt a sort-of sense of protectiveness over them. Shaking his head, Oliver reminded himself that it was just because they lived in the same building as he was, and he was concerned for the safety of the rest of the inn's many boarders.

Oliver slipped inside a small café, mostly just to get out of the slow rain that was starting to drizzle from the thick overhead clouds. He nodded to the hostess and seated himself at a small table for two near the back of the quaint little restaurant. Almost immediately, a smiling, brown-haired waitress appeared next to him.

"What can I get for you?" she asked promptly.

Oliver scanned the small menu briefly. "I'll jus' have a cup of tea and a bowl of tomato soup." he said, and the girl nodded and whisked off. A second later, she was back with a china teacup and a steaming kettle.

After he had been settled with his food, Oliver stirred his soup absentmindedly. He wondered if it was possible to escape to the Burrow tomorrow. Ever since the first of what was bound to be many more wedding rehearsals, Oliver had taken to hiding out at the Weasley house to avoid Jemima and Imogene's constant invites to outings. He would rather face the temperament of Mrs. Weasley than listen to Jemima's constant stream of chatter about nothingness or Imogene's pleasant, but stoic personality.

Oliver finished his dinner in solitude and returned to his flat, managing to dodge Jemima's attempts to invite him in for a nightcap by saying that he had to get up early in the morning and still had a lot of work to do.

Once inside his relatively clean apartment, Oliver leaned back against the closed door and let his eyelids fall shut. Rubbing his unshaven jaw (he hadn't had time in the past couple of days to do practically anything), he let out all of his breath in a long whoosh.

"Hey, Oliver."

Oliver jumped about a foot in the air. _"Crivvens, _Katie! Wha' did I tell ye about jus' appearin' in a man's room?"

She shrugged, not looking up from that day's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ she was reading. "I thought I'd spend the night over here."

He looked at her suspiciously. "And why, might I ask, do ye feel the need to do that?"

Oliver was used to Katie staying over some nights. She was like his sister in every way that counted, so he felt no reservations about the whole male/female situation. He was, however, highly curious about the _reason _why she wanted to. She had always had a good reason to before, mostly spawning from a need to get away from her current flatmate, a girl named Maria whom she couldn't stand.

Katie turned a page of the newspaper. "Well, since I have to go to the Weasley's tomorrow to help with George's wedding preparations, I figured I should stay here and then the both of us can go."

Oliver felt his spirits lifting. "Ye are goin' to the Burrow tomorrow? Really?"

"Honestly, Wood. Don't you hear a word I say? Yes, I'm going to the Burrow tomorrow. I promised George I would help with the bridesmaids' dresses, and since I'm one of them, I ought to be there for the preparations."

"And I'm to go with ye? Well, that's jus' fine, Katie-girl." Oliver kicked her foot lightly as he walked past her into the kitchen.

"Don't call me that." Katie responded, but she was smiling.

The next morning dawned bright, cheery and sunny with just the faintest breeze. Oliver pressed his face down into his pillow and breathed in the scent of smoke that curled in through the open window next to his bed. He loved waking up to the sights and smells of Diagon Alley.

Katie banged on his door before he was fully awake. "Wood!" she yelled. "Wake up! We have to leave in twenty minutes, and Merlin knows how long you take to get ready!"

Oliver groaned, but managed to pry himself up. He sat with his Puddlemere United blanket clutched around him and yawned widely.

"Wood!" Katie shouted again. "Up!"

"I am up." Blinking sleep from his eyes, Oliver stood and staggered over to his dresser where managed to find a clean shirt to yank over his head. He switched his pajama bottoms for a pair of well-worn jeans and slipped a pair of old trainers on his feet. Then, still half-asleep, he grabbed his wand and shoved it into his pocket, then managed to make it out to the kitchen where Katie was sitting.

She pushed a cup of tea his direction, along with a bowl of porridge. "Eat quickly." she said. "We've got to be at the Weasley's in ten minutes, and I have no idea how to get there. We might have to go down to George's flat…but no, he'll be at his house…"

"S'all right." Oliver said through a mouthful of porridge. "I've been there before, once. I can Apparate us there."

Relief coursed through Katie's worried face. "Oh, good." she said. "I've never done this sort of thing before, you know. My sisters are all younger than me, and then I've only got one older brother, and he's not married yet."

Oliver nodded, only half-listening. He took a sip of his tea and waited until she wound down, then stretched and stood up.

"Well, shall we go?" he said, and Katie nodded and stood up. Grasping her upper arm in his hand, Oliver turned on the spot and they were sucked into the complete and all-encompassing blackness.

When they were finally pulled out of the suffocating darkness, Katie stumbled a bit, but Oliver caught her by the arm again. Sweeping a hand majestically towards the tall, creaky, crowded house, he said proudly "Welcome to the Burrow."


	5. Chapter 5: Too Close For Comfort

**Thanks for the reads and reviews:)**

**Chapter 5: Too Close For Comfort**

Oliver wondered if it was possible to be as bored as he was. Sitting in the crowded living room of the Weasley's slightly disheveled, but altogether pleasant living room and surrounded by giggling, squealing girls was not exactly his idea of a good time. He and Katie had gotten to the Burrow later than planned, and although he could have Apparated to Madam Malkins to where George and the rest of the men where, he had opted to stay and watch.

Now he wished he had Apparated. Oliver closed his eyes briefly as Alicia Spinnet let out a high pitched cry.

"Oh, Hermione! You look so cute!"

Oliver managed to tear his gaze from the fascinating spectacle of the pile of magazines in front of him and dragged his gaze to the girl standing on the table. He blinked, momentarily startled. That couldn't be the bushy haired Hermione Granger he had known; the one who's nose was constantly stuck in a book in a library somewhere. The girl in front of him was slender, with thickly ringletted brown hair and big brown eyes. However, the expression on her face; a mixture of boredom and exasperation; was exactly the Hermione he remembered, and Oliver snapped out of his musings.

Sighing, he kicked up his feet onto the table, only to have Katie reach over and push them off.

"Wha'?" he said, trying to keep the grumpiness from his voice, but not succeeding very well, for Katie gave him a rather terrifying look.

"You're in somebody else's house." she hissed. "Behave!"

Oliver grunted a sullen response, but put his feet back on the ground. A few moments later there was a sudden crash and several male voices filled the hallways. Then Ron Weasley poked his head in the doorway, followed by Harry Potter and the rest of the men. Oliver couldn't help smirking slightly at the awe and astonishment on Ron's face as he took in Hermione in her dress robes. Ron's ears were pink as he cleared his throat loudly.

Mrs. Weasley sat up and wiped sweat from her forehead. She had been pinning the hem of Hermione's robes with her wand, but it was still taking her some effort and unbreakable concentration.

"Ah, you're back." she said. "Good. What do you think of the colors, George?"

George Weasley strode into the room, his bright, lime green dragonskin jacket nearly blinding. He was taller than Oliver remembered, and more haggard and serious looking. Fred's death had really taken a toll on the other twin, and Oliver was certain that George wasn't ever going to be quite the same again.

"They're lovely, Mother." he said as he beamed down at his fiancee, Verity Callum. "Perfect."

She murmured something to him, but at that moment Harry stepped towards Oliver and said "Hey, Oliver."

Grinning, Oliver slowly stood, yawning and stretching stiffly. "Hey there, Harry. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. Katie-girl was runnin' late with gettin' ready."

Katie huffed from across the room. "I was not. Oliver just can't seem to get dressed in a normal amount of time."

Seeing the look on Ron's face, Oliver hastily said "We're not together. "But Katie spends a lot of time at me flat. We're good friends. She helps me to keep meself from starvin'."

Katie snorted. "Only because Oliver can't seem to feed himself."

Shaking his head, a small smile on his face, Oliver wagged a finger in her direction. "Ye better watch yerself, Miss Katie, or I can't be tellin' ye what'll happen to ye hair in the mornin.'"

She grabbed a lock of her short blonde hair and tried to conjure up a shocked expression. "Why, Oliver," she said, blinking her long lashes at him. "That hurts!"

Oliver just rolled his eyes.

The rest of the afternoon was otherwise uneventful, except for an odd frission between Ron and Hermione. Oliver mused about it over the dinner table and couldn't see what the problem was. Harry had told him before that they were dating, but now it seemed as if they were trying to avoid each other.

As the night ended, Oliver and Katie said their goodnights and Apparated back to Oliver's apartment.

"Are ye stayin' here then, tonight?" he asked as he flipped his wands at the candles along the wall, which lit themselves and flared bright orange and gold. "Or will ye be goin' back to your apartment?"

Katie yawned. "Here, I suppose. I'm too tired to leave now."

Oliver nodded and headed off into his bedroom, leaving Katie to do her own thing. He changed quickly into a pair of grey shorts and a teeshirt before flicking his wand at the lights. They distinguished themselves and Oliver tumbled into bed, closing his eyes blissfully.

He hadn't been asleep for more than a few moments, however, when there was a blood-curdling screech from outside. Oliver shot out of bed so fast that his leg tangled in the sheets. He hurriedly threw them off and dashed out of his room in time to see a figure in all black Disapparating in the middle of his living room with a loud crack!

Katie lay on the floor, sobbing, her blonde hair in tangles around her face. Oliver ran to her and touched her shoulder.

"Katie! Katie, what happened? Katie, are ye hurt?" He pushed aside some of her hair and held back a gasp as he saw an inch long gash in her forehead. It dripped blood onto his bare arm, and Katie's moans of pain grew louder.

Oliver hauled her gently to her feet, and then threw his arms around her waist. Closing his eyes, he turned on the spot and Disapparated.  
-  
Saint Mungo's cleared Katie's wound up in a flash, but both she and Oliver were severely shaken. He helped her back to his apartment, where he began shooting stealth spells around the perimeter.

"I don't remember what he looked like." Katie was saying to a Ministry official as he came out of the kitchen. "Just that he was tall and thin and was wearing all black. And he didn't use a wand."

The Ministry official nodded, and Oliver recognized him as Randolph Mullins from Jemima Jeffries' case. He stepped forward.

"Are they done by the same person, then?" Oliver asked. "The attack on the girl below and with Katie here. Are they by the same person?"

Randolph Mullins rubbed a hand over his tired looking face. "Yes, it seems so. We'll have to do some more investigating."

He bade them goodnight and Disapparated, leaving Oliver and Katie to themselves. Oliver sat next to his friend, and took her hand. "Are ye all right?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head and sighed. "Oh, Wood."

Katie leaned against him and Oliver put a brotherly arm around her shoulders. He was going to find out who was behind these attacks, that was for sure. He may not be the most cunning sleuth, but when it came down to his friends, Oliver was willing to bet that the attacker wouldn't stand a chance against him.


End file.
